


Sometimes I Regret Meeting You. No you don't. You're Right. I Don't.

by HenryMars



Category: Don't hug me I'm scared - Fandom, Gravity Falls
Genre: I wrote this a long time ago guys idk what to tell ya, M/M, Rough Sex, Self-Doubt, The Morning After except it takes place in the middle of the night, implied sex, unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 07:58:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20963144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HenryMars/pseuds/HenryMars
Summary: He keeps coming back. He doesn't understand why. He just does. He hates it. Hates HIM. Yet he can't stop himself. He's always been in control of himself. So what made HIM any different?





	Sometimes I Regret Meeting You. No you don't. You're Right. I Don't.

**Author's Note:**

> (*nonchalantly cues up "One More Night" by Maroon 5 and/or "Love The Way You Lie" by Rihanna and Eminem*)
> 
> So. I don't remember who bespoke the ship "Bill x Tony" into existence but it was probably Me. I wrote this in high school, edited it like...a million years later, and now it's presentable I guess.
> 
> I haven't posted in a while but hey now I need to. Stay tuned at the end for shameless self-promotion.

The soft sounds of content sleep fills the room.

All Tony could think about is how much he hates himself.

He lies awake in the home of resident hypnotist and mind demon Bill Cipher after another night he knew he was going to regret in the morning. The demon was fast asleep beside Tony's blue body, laying on his side. His sleep-tousled, silver-white hair and equally pale arms were tucked beneath his cheek, breathing deeply and evenly as he snoozed away. Tony found it a wonder how he managed to look so innocent in slumber, considering he was a mischievous little shit when he was awake.

The Timekeeper runs his fingers through his own sweaty black and blond hair, letting out a weary sigh.

It’s two in the morning, and he already has a mountain of regrets.

With another sigh, the blue man sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the protest his muscles made. Tonight had been particularly rough. Tony could still feel the sensation of being strangled with his bowtie before it was violently ripped from his neck, of Bill's nails raking down the length of his body, drawing beads of blood. The sensation of Bill’s sharp teeth that scraped his dick when he sucked. The forceful way Tony slammed himself into Bill, over and over again with his hands around the demon’s vile throat and the silver tongue it contained. Dried blood is crusted over the gear tattoos the lattice the Timekeeper's back from where the Mindscapist had smeared it over his body.

How odd that he enjoys it so. The pain, the misery, the pleasure, the drive, the  _ need _ for this yellow knife in his heart to be driven in deeper, stabbing into him constantly until he is numb to it all, so numb and listless but feeling compelled to go back by some unknown force. Is he bound to the demon? Is that why? He hopes not.

Shoving on his boxers, the blue immortal stumbles over to the bathroom, closing the door before turning on the light and glaring at himself in the mirror.

A terrible monstrosity couldn't even begin to describe how he looks, with his hair sticking up every which way, sweat and other bodily fluids making him sticky and disgusting, and purple bags hanging beneath dull and weary amber eyes. Similar purple hickies dot his throat and chest, territorial marks from the demon who sleeps with a clear conscience in the other room, along with the long, dark blue scratches left on the TImekeeper’s chest. Damned demon sure knows how to use his hands.

Tony turns the handle on the sink before cupping the water in his hands and rubbing his face, wishing he could scrub off the memory of Bill just as easily. That Mindscapist is so  _ enticing _ , no doubt an illusion devised with his mind magic. Yet Tony finds it so difficult to resist him. He has an aroma like ancient parchment, which happens to be the Timekeeper's favorite fragrance, and he curses himself every time he falls to his will because of that abhorrent scent. That silly black bowtie tied around the collar of a pristine white button-up shirt. His yellow suit the same color of the parchment he smells as, and every inch criss-crossed in the faded scripts from which he was summoned. From his top-hat-topped head to his impeccably-shined black boots, Tony hates him.

Hates him with a burning passion.

Hates how he kept coming back.

Hates how much he loves him.

When Tony looks back up, he jumps out of his skin. No longer did his reflection look at him. Bill Cipher is staring down at him, his visage in the mirror wearing a smug grin.

"I know when you're thinking of me, Stopwatch," the trickster demon says, his one gold eye alight with mirth. "Even when I'm asleep."

"Get  _ out _ of my head," Tony growls in a low voice.

"Hmm, 'fraid not, Stopwatch."

Tony bares his teeth, wrinkling his nose up in a snarl, but Bill seems more amused than deterred, leaning forward to poke his head out of the mirror and into Tony's face.

"Besides, you love it when I invade like this," he adds. Tony wishs he could rip that stupid eyepatch off his dead eye and shove down his throat to shut up his grating voice.

"Now that's not a nice thought," the Mindscapist says, reading his mind and further pissing off the immortal.

"I hate it when you intrude on my conscious," the Timekeeper snaps. "You always invade my privacy, and make me say and do things I wouldn't otherwise!"

"That's not true." Now Bill is behind him, purring into his ear, and Tony almost melts at the velvety tone his voice took on. He feels those imaginary arms around him, rubbing his pecs up and down, surprisingly gentle. "I had no control on you over tonight, or last night, or the night before…” The demon steps back, away from the trembling clock who refuses to look back at him. “That was all you. Don't you lie to me, Stopwatch...Don't lie to  _ you _ ."

Then he vanishes, leaving the blue immortal sweating, shaking, and panting, gripping the basin of the sink to support himself. He looks up at the mirror, and found that his reflection was back, mimicking his internal conflict and pain.

" _ You love it when I invade like this... _ " Bill's words swim in his mind. " _ Don't lie to me, Stopwatch... _ "

Tony wants to scream, to punch something, because he hates it when the Mindscapist is right. He comes back because Paige annoys him to the point where he needs to go to Bill and vent it out. He comes back because he gets so mad with everyday life and hate-fucking the brains out of the demon would relieve the daily stress that comes with being an immortal guardian of time. He comes back because the demon is just so… _ alluring _ , and despite all his bravado and claims of hate and despisement, he  _ did  _ care, deep down. No matter how much he hates to admit gross, sappy sentiments like that. He has a reputation for being too cold, objective and unfeeling. Feeling this warm, this...heat, he supposes he can all it. It’s just a lot he didn’t expect, nor particularly understand.

Tony walks out of the bathroom, not feeling too much better than earlier as he opens the door and switched off the light.

Bill had rolled over in his sleep, now facing the Timekeeper as he crawls back into bed, and he could see his smirk on his pale face as he tuggs the shorter man into his arms. The yellow demon knows all too well the full effect of what  _ really _ happened in that bathroom, and no doubt Tony is going to get an earful in the morning. He can already imagine that smug, annoying voice chasing and taunting him as he got ready, cat-calling and jeering. It is almost physically painful.

_ I shouldn’t still be here. Why am I still here? I love it here -- no.I need to leave. Gotta escape him. His clutches are warm and inviting. I love h--I love to hate him. Right? I love to hate. I hate to love. I have to leave. I’d hate to leave. I-- _

Movement interrupts his thoughts. "Careful, Stopwatch. Your affection's showing," Bill rumbles groggily as he burrows his face into Tony's chest, his messy white locks tickling the yellow goatee on the blue man's chin. "Lemme guess: this one of those 'times and places' for showing you truly love me deep-down in your rusty ol' cogs and gears?"

"No, not at all," Tony murmurs, knowing he was lying deep in the recesses of his mind. "I will always hate you."

"Hate me, do ya, Stopwatch? Then tell me why you keep comin' back?" he asks.

"Because you love how I loathe you."

Bill chuckles. "Ah yes, that must be it. I crave your hatred, your rage. What a service ya bring to me.  _ Such _ a gentleman." He runs a finger up Tony's chest, and the immortal stifles a shiver. "I must say, it increases your performance immensely. But," he adds, and Tony feels that damnable golden eye of his look up at him, analyzing him, as that pale finger taps against his blue chest.

"I don't believe you hate me at all. If you did, you wouldn't come back so often like you do, even if you usually fly here in a flurry of sexual frustration."

Dammit. Cornered.

Tony is about to speak and defend himself with a statement likely pulled from his ass, but is silenced by Bill's gentle kiss to his jaw.

"I know it's complicated for a time-oriented, objective immortal to understand. Just know that I don't hate you, either."

Tony stays awake long after Bill falls back to sleep, musing over the demon's words until the faint light of dawn brought his thoughts to a lull and his eyes to a close.

And he finally nods off into a dreamless slumber.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey nya'll it's ya boi Henry Mars.
> 
> First off, congrats for getting through this. I honestly still like it all these years later. I realize more and more each day that Past Me was a MUCH better writer than current me.
> 
> Second, if you wanna follow me and see more of my dumb shit or my ranting about how great podcasts are, you can follow me @marstonland on Twitter. I'm on like once every couple of days because Podcasts are Good Shit and I have a Lot of feelings about them. DM my on the Twits and I'll give you some recs if you're interested. I don't mind making some new acquatances. or even friends. Lovers, even. S'all good to my demiromantic/panromantic ass.
> 
> Third, a call to action! I'm moving soon from my parents' place to be closer to school and this will be the first time I'm living on my own! Rent is 775$ per month and I haven't yet found a new job in the city so currently I'm spending 60$ per week on gas money and that's No Good. SO, I'M A LITTLE NERVOUS ABOUT MAKING RENT. I DON'T WANNA GET EVICTED GUYS, GALS, AND NONBINARY PALS.  
I want to be a writer as my career. It's my dream job. But with attending school full-time and this whole Moving thing looming in my face, I've barely done any schoolwork and just kept writing to make sure I don't go bankrupt. Soooo, I have a short story published! It's just under 15k words and I think only took me about a consecutive four days to write, if not less, so I deemed it worthy of 6$. You can find it here alongside future works: lulu.com/spotlight/henrymars  
I appreciate any help one can give. I also have a Ko-Fi, where you can commission me for a short story! 3$ for two pages, if that sounds alright!  
A'ight, peaces peaches! <3


End file.
